It is daylight.
This is important because, despite all appearances to the contrary, we are in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. This is okay because these zombies never show up while it is daylight, only at nighttime. So provided no one is out after curfew, there is never a problem.
There is an apartment building which is set up like a coed dormitory, where I am living with scores of other people. Architecturally speaking, it is a boxy pyramid, with tiers going out on every subsequent floor – top floor is very narrow and the bottom floor is very broad. I am on the roof, taking in the sun and blue sky. It is a beautiful day for a wedding. My friend, played by actress Brie Larson, is getting married today.
I get delivered a note, Brie needs to see me immediately.
I bounce down from my spot on the roof, and then through a series of running jumps (a poor man’s parkour) make my way down toward the ground floor. Elevators are for people with time, I am taking Brie’s “immediately” to heart. On my way down I see friends Laura M. and Jennie R. and Christine S. and I overhear their heated discussion over whether the wedding is still on or not.
About halfway down the building I cut through a corridor to the opposite side, to avoid the north terraced garden of succulents. In this corridor, sitting on the floor, half wrapped in a white towel, I come across an instrument. It looks like a squat neck of a guitar with strings and buttons and a built-in battery power amplifier. I unwrap it from the towel and try playing something. The instrument is very intuitive, making random strumming sound like the soulful playing of a master. I bundle it back up in the towel and take it with me.
Ground level, on the sidewalk, just outside the front door I find a red moped. It is quietly thrumming by itself in idle, key in the ignition; waiting for me, it seems. I hop on.
It is worth noting that even though there is a zombie apocalypse going on, there is absolutely no evidence of it anywhere. No rotting corpses, no signs of broken societal infrastructure. Lights and power all work fine. People are happy. Everything is sunny and perfect. A utopia in the daylight.
I drive up the coastal highway. It is beautiful and there is very little automotive traffic. Alongside the road I see dozens of girls and boys in swimsuits and bikinis of all types walking up the road in the same direction I am going. There are signs guiding guests to the wedding, complete with white streamers and balloons. The signs take me to a large parking lot next to a mammoth country club structure. All huge white pillars. The building is shockingly white next to the flat black of the parking lot, and the lush green of the manicured lawns and gardens beyond.
People are waving and smiling at me, I do not recognize any of them, but wave and smile back. For whatever reason I seem to be well known here, or people are just naturally friendly.
Inside the country club, I find Brie, she is wearing casual jeans and a t-shirt and is pacing around in her dressing room. Hanging on the door is her opulent wedding dress, all whites and pastels. She is annoyed and angry.
“I am not getting married today. Period.”
I give her a hug and ask her what I can do to help.
It seems her father, played by Powers Boothe, the president of the United States, has set up this whole wedding as a political move to make ground with the people of Uruguay and distract the American public from the zombie apocalypse.
While I try and reassure her, in my mind’s eye, I am re-examining the language and wording of her fiancé’s love letters which Brie showed me weeks ago. Odd statements and turns of phrase jump out at me. Things are beginning to click into place.
Brie and I sneak out of the country club together and head north on foot. The clear day has become overcast, the ground wet and squishy. We find ourselves in the middle of a wheat field that is going to seed. Around us are military personnel in plain clothes doing training exercises. They are testing special new x-ray sonar scopes which have the ability to look through walls, or through several meters of solid earth. Brie and I get our hands on one of the scopes and after messing around a little (looking at each other’s skeletons), purely by chance, we locate an object deep underground. The object is vaguely shaped like a top hat and is pulsing with a blue red glowing light.
We point out the object to the woman who seems to be in charge of the training, and she gets very excited, very quickly. In the ensuing chaos, Brie and I run away before we can be questioned as to who we are and what we are doing there. It is starting to get dark anyway. Best to clear out before curfew.
Cut to, big urban city center, nighttime. All wet asphalt, glass and neon lights.
On a rooftop, I am by myself and on the run, a little panicked, but mostly exhilarated. The zombies are out, and there are a lot of them, but these are slow movers – and easily avoided provided I don’t dive into the middle of a swarm.
I swing across a span between the building I was on and a neighboring building under construction. I take out my x-ray sonic scope and scan around. I am looking for more of the blue/red pulsing shapes, as that is my mission. Nothing here. I make my way over pipes and discarded duct work. A few blocks away I see an inner city park, perhaps I should try there.
I duck into an unfinished elevator shaft and shimmy down a cable.
After dodging a few zombies on the ground floor, I lurch out the front door and I find a discarded mountain bike, waiting for me.
(Is it possible to have a deja vu in a dream?)
I race to the park on my new wheels.
The park is built around a primary water feature; a waterfall that empties into a large pond. Once again the scope comes out and I am scanning. I hear the zombies coming, but feel I have a little time.
Directly beneath the waterfall, deep underwater, I see another glowing, pulsing shape – this time it is in the shape of a barrel.
My radio crackles to life and it is Brie, wanting to check on my status.
I wake up to the sound of dueling sitars. My alarm is going off.
Brie Larson image grabbed from the net, Chris Pizzello, Invision, AP
Powers Booth image grasbbed from the net comic-soon.com